I saw another "God Is My Pilot" bumper sticker the other day. I had thought all the lame jokes had been made in my head previously (e.g. "Who's driving right now in that case? You? Did God carjack you, why does it look like there's only one person?") when suddenly it hit me like a sack of bibles swung at my forehead by Jerry Falwell...
Considering how gapingly, meticulously awful air travel is (and continues to become) both in perception and actual reality, do you really think that the best way to draw into your crush on Jesus is advertise it with that particular analogy? I know you guys are totally in love, BFFs and all that, but it's a bit like saying god is your dentist in terms of its raw power as an attractant (or, repellant to my mind.) We all know we should go and see our dentist, but we* are at the same time bound simply to put it off until our poor anxiety inducing teeth spontaneously combust.
Air Travel:Transportation::Root Canal:Use of a Day Off.
Who says nobody ever got anything out of taking the SATs?
I know, bus travel is also no walk in the park, but it is more The Accidental Homeless Guy Handshake of Travel, according to my official pamphlet from the travel agent. It's more spiritually chilling than the alternative, but at least you don't have to take your shoes off (if you are actually traveling on a bus and are lucky enough to be a shoe owner) before getting on a Greyhound.
Anyhow, nothing for a few days to come as Tigger and I are off to the lovely Shawangunks up north of our fair city, for a weekend hopefully sufficiently blessed with snow that perhaps we will be able to go snowshoeing. It isn't looking incredibly promising at the moment, so we will instead be doing some hiking, and plenty of eating in that event. Oh yes indeed (unless the circumstances of Needless Affectation Asterisk Point Three means that I start whimpering like a sickly child at the prospect of eating food, in which case I will get to take off a few needed pounds, which just seems like a WIN WIN!)
*By which I mean me. I have a profound degree of anxiety and procrastination about dental care, and wish you would just leave me alone about it. I know I have to make the appointment, okay? I totally will, too. You know, at some point... got it?**
**That point probably might be the aforementioned Calamitous Tooth Event Horizon,*** if I'm completely honest with myself, but leave me alone anyway.
***Which, I think may have happened today, as goddamn Au Bon Pain left some grit in my clam chowder, which may or may not have been added to the finished (and grit free) soup for authenticity and atmosphere, and which chipped a molar. This sucks, and on top of it I had chipped the same molar, right next to this spot before (thanks to the clowns at the Whole Foods buffet, so I'm pretty sure yuppies are after my teeth for some reason.) This has left me now at a point where it hurts when I bite down hard on that spot... which in turn means that I have to face up to it and go to the damn dentist, and I'm getting a little wobbly just thinking about it. So, just... just shut up, okay?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment